Idealism increases in direct proportion to one’s distance from the problem.
JOHN GALSWORTHYThe beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.
More John Galsworthy Quotes
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The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Slang is vigorous and apt. Probably most of our vital words were once slang.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The talked-about is always the last to hear the talk . . .
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
The Forsytes were resentful of something, not individually, but as a family; this resentment expressed itself in an added perfection of raiment, an exuberance of family cordiality, an exaggeration of family importance, and the sniff.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
First one, then the other, getting the upper hand, and too seldom fusing till the result has the mellowness of full achievement.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
the biggest tragedy of life is the utter impossibility to change what you have done
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
For, what is grievous, dompting, grim, about our lives is that we are shut up within ourselves, with an itch to get outside ourselves.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Art is the one form of human energy in the whole world, which really works for union, and destroys the barriers between man and man.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Wealth is a means to an end, not the end itself. As a synonym for health and happiness, it has had a fair trial and failed dismally.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
If you do not think about the future, you cannot have one.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
One can even tell the nature of one’s readers, by their preference for the work which reveals more of this side than of that.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Danger so indispensable in bringing out the fundamental quality of any society, group, or individual was what the Forsytes scented; the premonition of danger put a burnish on their armour.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
And to be stolen away from ourselves by Art is a momentary relaxation from that itching, a minute’s profound, and as it were secret, enfranchisement.
JOHN GALSWORTHY -
Summer summer summer! The soundless footsteps on the grass!
JOHN GALSWORTHY






